Limbo.

That was the only way he could describe the stasis in which he currently existed.

Time was speeding by while dragging on. Work was never surprising but always new. Scrimgeour was always outrageous yet tame.

Percy's desk at the Ministry had become a limbo.

His brief reprieve from the suppressing London air had only made everything worse. He couldn't even meet the eyes of the Minister of Magic without wanting to shout and swear and curse him. The Daily Prophet had picked up another news source somewhere along the line, and though they always printed Percy's Ministry-approved press releases the main headlines were finally reflecting the dark aura that covered the British Isles. As they should.

Worse than the press releases and the Minister's cold gaze were the trials. It was not often that the Minister saw fit to hold one, but whenever things began to look particularly bleak a trial appeared as if Summoned to boost morale. The accused were blatantly not guilty, all of them, but such was Scrimgeour's grasp on the Wizengamot that most of them were convicted regardless. Percy's stomach rolled each time he sent an owl to the press, proclaiming the conviction of yet another wrong-doer.

Audrey could no longer write him. This was not the doing of Scrimgeour or anyone at the British Ministry, but of the American Department of Magic. They recognized the growing darkness of Britain, and fear of the impending doom combined with persistent nagging from Dolores Umbridge led to the stop of all trade between the British and American magical communities. Audrey had managed to send one last, hurriedly-scrawled note to him before the embargo took place, and he had read it so often that the ink was smeared.

I love you. I love you. Merlin, I love you. Take care. Be safe.

I love you.

She had sent it at the beginning of May. The end of June now approached, and Percy still woke each morning to his lover's last letter clutched in his hand.

He pulled it from his pocket and contemplated it as he sat at his desk. It was late, certainly, but he had learned the hard way in March that his late-night presence at work was the only way to ensure that he keep his job. If Scrimgeour wanted him for some impromptu press conference or a tactics meeting and he wasn't around, the Minister lost his temper. Rapidly.

Percy still had the charred remains of his favorite quill in his desk drawer.

I love you. I miss you. I love you I love you I love

"Weasley." Percy jumped in his seat and cried aloud at the sudden intrusion, but it was only his coworker Morthan. "Get your cloak on. We're going to Hogwarts."

"But it's—it's nearly midnight!" he protested. "What's going on?"

Morthan shrugged. "I've no idea, to be honest, but Scrimgeour sent me to fetch you. We're meeting the rest of the assembly there."

"What, is he putting Potter on trial again at his own school or something?" Percy muttered, gently placing Audrey's note in his pocket and throwing on his ratty cloak. "This is ridiculous."

Morthan snorted his agreement and led the way to the lifts. "I tell you, this better be important. I only stayed after to finish that latest financial report, Dot's going to murder me when I don't come home on time."

"Didn't you write her?" Percy asked as the lift began to move. "Surely you had time to scrawl something down."

"Scrimgeour's orders. Whatever's happened or going to happen, it's top secret for now." Morthan shifted. "It doesn't feel right, Weasley. The way I understood it, the biggest delegation Scrimgeour's got is going to be there tonight. He wants to look powerful, but he was as pale as I'd seen him when he talked to me."

Scrimgeour's nerves were no news to Percy, but the fact that he had even invited the accountant was telling. The trip from the lifts to Diagon Alley was spent preparing himself for the inevitable disaster he would be met with upon Apparition. Sure enough, when he popped into being outside Hogwarts' gates, he was met with the sounds of sniffling and wailing. Scrimgeour faced the castle, his hands folded behind his back and his head bowed, and no fewer than seven other Ministry employees huddled around him, wringing their hands and patting one another on the back.

Only Dolores Umbridge did not look devastated, her eyes a little too gleeful and cunning as she dabbed at them with a handkerchief. "Minister, this is surely some kind of mistake. Perhaps a prank pulled on you by some wayward students? Maybe even a staff member or two?"

"No. No, my sources were quite clear. Dumbledore is dead."

Another round of wailing commenced at his words. Morthan tripped and fell against Percy, but the taller man hardly felt the impact. He hardly felt anything.

Dumbledore…dead? Dead? Not living?

How could this be possible? How could the greatest wizard of the age just die, especially at a time of such darkness? Were the fates solely on the Dark Lord's side?

"But how?" whimpered Agatha Nurmence, the general secretary for the Minister's office.

"He was murdered." Percy's head spun even more at this revelation. "I don't have all the details, but we need to get up there. Dolores, Proudfoot, Savage, Weasley. You'll come with me to see McGonagall, she's Headmistress for the time being. The rest of you, inform the rest of the Ministry. Get them into the office. We'll be swamped for the foreseeable future."

Numb with shock, Percy stumbled forward to join Umbridge and the Aurors at the Minister's side. The gate disappeared with a flick of Proudfoot's wand, and Scrimgeour began limping towards the castle. Lights flared in the towers, and the doors to the Entrance Hall were open, allowing light to spill onto the lawn. When they neared the door, an unsettling impression in the grass made Percy's stomach churn. It was exactly the shape of a body, and a rather mangled one at that.

The trip to through the castle seemed to take years, yet the Minister's party arrived at the Headmaster's office far too soon for Percy's liking. The gargoyle let them in without complaint, and Percy was mildly surprised to be met by not only Professor McGonagall but representatives of all four Houses and Hagrid. McGonagall met Scrimgeour's pointed stare with a cool, haughty expression that Percy had never experienced firsthand. "You wasted no time, Rufus."

"What happened?" the Minister growled. "I know he was murdered, but who did it?"

"All evidence points to Severus Snape," McGonagall said softly. "I've no concrete proof of that, but seeing as he was seen fleeing the scene with Draco Malfoy, cursing anyone who got in his way, I'd wager that he had at least something to do with it."

"Nonsense," sneered Umbridge. "Severus is incapable of such a betrayal. What would he stand to gain?"

"I do not pretend to understand his motivations," squeaked Professor Flitwick. Percy noted that his forehead bore a large, dark lump. "However, as I am among his victims of the evening…"

Umbridge began to retort, but Scrimgeour spoke over her. "We will discuss this further later, Minerva. For now, Weasley needs to know when the school is officially closing so parents can be informed in the Prophet."

It was Professor Sprout's turn to speak. "The school will not be closing. We've decided that Dumbledore will be buried on the grounds, given the governors' permission of course, and the students will go home on schedule. If a single one of those students expresses a desire to return next term, we will be here to teach them."

"Preposterous!" cried Scrimgeour, but the rest of his tirade was cut off by Umbridge.

"You dare to speak as if you or any of you have the authority to make this decision?" The short woman placed her hands on her hips, caressing her wand with one finger as she glared around at the professors. "This is not your decision to make!"

"Hagrid, perhaps it would be for the best if you show these…gentlemen…to a guest suite. They'll need space to write their press releases, after all," McGonagall said coldly. Percy belatedly realized that she was speaking of him and the Aurors, and he bristled slightly under her furious look.

"'course," Hagrid mumbled. The gamekeeper herded the three unwanted members of the Ministry delegation onto the moving staircase as a heated discussion erupted in the office. "Ministry scum," he growled when they were past the gargoyle. Proudfoot and Savage, who had begun conversing as soon as they escaped the office, did not seem to hear the half-giant, and Percy was not disinclined to agree with him. "Thinkin' they can rush in here right aft…after…"

"Oy, Percy!" Percy, Hagrid, and the Aurors turned at the cry. A disheveled figure was stalking down the hall towards them, and Percy confused the silhouette with Bill's lithe figure at first. He pushed his glasses up his nose and realized he had mistaken his youngest brother for the eldest, for it was Ron who now approached him.

"Ronald? What are you doing out at this hour?"

"Let it go, Ron," said a weary voice. Percy looked past Ron to see a bloodstained Ginny pointedly glaring away from him, accompanied by Hermione and the Lovegood girl from last June. "It's not like he cares."

"Shut it, Gin." Ron folded his arms across his chest. "Madam Pomfrey wouldn't mind, you know."

"Mind what?" Percy furrowed his brow. His brother was obviously testing him, but he had no idea on what material he was being tested. "What are you blithering on about?"

"He's only half dead. I mean, isn't that why you joined the Ministry team to come up here?" The words froze Percy's blood.

"Wait, Dumbledore's alive? I thought-"

"Not Dumbledore, you prat! I know Mum sent Pig through the Floo to your flat to tell you." Ron's expression darkened. "Of course you don't care. You probably just came to score some brownie points with your precious boss."

"Ronald, who are you talking about?" But Ron was already walking away. Hermione sent a surprisingly concerned glance at Percy before taking Ron's arm and joining him, but Ginny and the Lovegood girl didn't acknowledge him further. "Hagrid, do you know what he was talking about? I wasn't home."

"It's one o' yer brothers," Hagrid said sadly. "Greyback got ter 'im, see."

"Greyback?!" Percy started down the hallway towards the Hospital Wing as soon as he could make his feet move again, but the Aurors stepped in his way. "Move!"

"The Minister specifically told us not to let you go," Savage said stoically. "You've got a job to do, and if he's been infected by a werewolf it's for the best that you don't get near him."

"I quit, then, but let me go!" Savage and Proudfoot exchanged glances before pulling out their wands. "You'd attack me rather than let me go see my brother?!"

"Orders are orders." Proudfoot shot sparks from his wands, and Percy winced when they burned his skin through his robes. "Next time won't be a warning shot. Get a move on."

His mind reeling with disbelief, Percy resumed his trek behind Hagrid, who seemed oblivious to his pain. Scrimgeour was now openly forbidding him contact with his family, as if he wasn't on bad enough terms with them already. It was like dealing with an entirely unsubtle Fudge, and the feeling was unsettling.

He could no longer talk to Audrey. He could no longer make up with his family.

He was truly alone, and his limbo was rapidly turning into Hell.


A/N: Another chapter, complete! Review if you liked it or didn't, if you so please. Sorry again about the crazy update schedule, but between work and creative lapses it's harder and harder to churn out chapters for anything at the moment.